


I Will Follow You With My Whole Life

by AndreaLyn



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had promised to keep Danny from doing anything stupid while in Las Vegas. Danny should've gotten that in writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Follow You With My Whole Life

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the lyrics of Mumford & Sons' _White Blank Page_. Set several weeks after the Season 2 finale.

_I’ll come with you_ , Steve had said. _I’ll make sure you don’t do anything stupid_ , he’d promised. _I’ll keep you focused._

Danny should’ve gotten that in writing. He should have had it notarized and signed _twice_ for good measure. Two days after they’d come to Vegas to prepare for the custody proceedings, he’s sitting up in a disheveled bed in a penthouse suite with a raging hangover, his phone vibrating on the nightstand beside him, and the distinct taste of whiskey on his tongue. He can’t be sure how much of the drink he’d had the night before, but judging by the way it tastes like a distillery has moved into his mouth, he’s going with a bottle.

Oh, and did he mention the presence of a Navy SEAL on the floor beside the bed?

“Steven,” Danny croaks out. “You’d better have a damn good explanation as to why a cymbal player is renting space in my brain.”

Steve, who is face-down on a pillow on the ground beneath Danny’s feet, grunts, scratches his bare back – how can Danny even be surprised that he’s shirtless, even in seemingly drunken disarray? – and peers blearily up at Danny. “I can explain.”

“Start.”

* * *

Danny feels a million times better as soon as he gets some water in him – though ‘some’ water is an understatement. Danny thinks he might’ve drained the Red Sea in equivalent water levels. He’s scrubbing his fingers over the stubble on his cheek, staring at some sculpted monstrosity in the hotel lobby in front of him while Steve tries to apologize in advance for the state of their room to the front desk.

“Danny, before we do anything, I need you to promise me that you’re not going to freak out,” Steve says, which is the easiest way to predict that Danny is going to freak out at some point soon. 

He must be making a face that implies everything he’s thinking, because Steve’s expression goes pinched. 

“Danny…”

“What? No, really, please tell me, Steven, tell me what I shouldn’t be freaking out about,” Danny encourages. “I _love_ conversations that start this way. They fall right behind ‘you’ll never guess the angle Grace’s arm is right now’ and ‘and due to a break in protocol, the case is falling apart’.”

Steve keeps staring, not saying a word.

“I’m really not going to like this, am I?” Danny sighs.

“We should go and see Kamekona, then we’ll discuss last night.”

“What? What is he doing here? And god, how much money has he lost?” Danny asks, worried about how much Vegas could take the big man for, at this point. 

Steve keeps looking at Danny like he’s been keeping secrets – no, not ‘like’, because it’s becoming incredibly clear that he _is_ keeping secrets and Danny doesn’t like it, not one bit. Suddenly, Kamekona is in Las Vegas because – because god knows why.

“I called him yesterday morning because I thought he’d be a good character witness in the case.” 

He remembers that. Does he? No, he definitely does. It’s why they’re here. Rachel’s lawyers had ‘politely’ requested that Danny make an appearance at the court hearings and in a few days, they’re going to throw down between lawyers and witnesses and by the end of it, they’re going to have one more piece of paper to file in the thick stack of legal proceedings that narrates their divorce. They called Kamekona because he’s helped out to watch for Grace in case of emergency and…

“Son of a bitch, Rachel called him,” Danny says, when it hits him.

“No, Danny. I did.”

“Think about it, Steve. I leave our daughter in the hands of a criminal informant when the going gets tough. You might’ve called him to talk about how good a father I am,” he says, “but Rachel probably summoned him first. Son of a _bitch_ ,” he swears. “Is that what I’m not going to like?”

Steve sighs.

So, that’s a no. There’s more.

“Let’s go see Kamekona,” Danny says, trying to keep his mind from going to the worst case scenario that involves terrorists invading Las Vegas and Steve trying to keep it from him or something else of that caliber. 

Steve seems willing enough to go along with the request. He takes Danny through the mall of Caesar’s Palace, stopping at one of the bars along the way where Kamekona has settled in for the day, surrounded on all sides by colorful drinks.

“Big guy, are you trying to drink all the colors of the rainbow?” Danny greets him, actually impressed by the representation that he’s got going on. Another reason that Danny will cut his own throat before he passively lets Grace go with Rachel and Stan to Vegas – there is no way that this sort of temptation lies within a stone’s throw and doesn’t mess someone up _somehow_ and yes, he knows he’s being hyperbolic, but it’s what Danny does best. “Steve says we should talk to you?”

“Ho'omaika'i 'ana,” Kamekona greets him with a big grin.

Danny stares at him blankly, but it’s enough to make Steve grimace and slap a hand over his face. “Okay, I’m assuming you just called me an asshole or something, but we’ll deal with that later. I know Steve called you yesterday to come in and testify and, please, would you _please_ do me a favor and make sure half these drinks are virgins so you show up to court sober? Beyond that, I’d appreciate if you told me whether you got a phone call from a very crusty, very proper lawyer last week.”

“Mr. Smythe!” Kamekona agrees, recognition parting to confirmation by way of a sure nod. “Course he called, brah. I thought he was yours.”

“No,” Danny says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, he is not mine. He is the bloodsucker who’s trying to take my little girl from me.”

The overdone wince from Kamekona isn’t exactly _necessary_ , but at least Danny feels like he’s got some solidarity in the matter. “Shoots,” Kamekona says. 

“Danny,” Steve interrupts. “Danny, trust me, it’s okay.”

“How is any of this okay? Steve, she’s…she’s going to frame me as a bad father. She’s going to defame my character to keep Grace.” Danny loves Rachel, loved her, and there’s so much about her that he fell for – including that stubborn tenacity to get her way regardless of what she had to do. She’d always cited that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission -- funny how Steve seems to live by that same mantra.

Speaking of Steven…

“You still have guilty face,” Danny accuses. “ _Why_?”

“I think it’s a good idea if we go over Kamekona’s testimony,” Steve says, his tone devoid of anything beyond pure, economical strategy. It’s the tone Steve takes when there’s a mission on the table or a murderer to catch.

Danny’s not sure what to make of the fact that he’s hauled out that same tone of voice for Operation: Make Sure Danny Doesn’t Lose Grace Forever.

“Fine,” Danny agrees.

They spend two hours going over accounts and stories, most of the time is spent telling Kame not to embellish so damn much and to remember the _details_. Danny looks up to catch Steve looking at him more times in the two hours than he has over the last two months and he still looks guilty, but there’s something else.

It’s --

It’s hard to describe, but Danny kind of thinks Steve’s looking at him like he _wants_ to be here. Maybe it’s simpler than that, maybe the only want that Steve has is --

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“You’re probably hungry. Chin Ho says he’s ready to grab a bite,” Steve says, leaning over to press his hand to the small of Danny’s back and lead him to the exit. It’s a sign as to Danny’s exhaustion and his hunger that he allows himself to be led so easily. 

Chin. Why is Chin here? The grander purpose has something to do with a conference the Governor wanted Chin at (some technological shindig). He’d promised to stay longer than necessary to help with the court case, which means that all the shiny new gadgets have been packed away and now it’s time for Danny’s sad situation to take center stage. 

Danny groans. “Only steaks the size of your ego will make me feel better.”

“How about the size of my head?” Steve suggests, his fingers tightening against Danny’s back, the warmth driving Danny mildly insane. “I know just the place. Plus, after you’ve had something to eat, there’s something we ought to talk about. Danny, it…”

“Steve, steak first. Revelations later. And if there is actually going to be a revelation, there better be some dessert included in this meal.”

“I guess I can afford some dessert,” Steve says wryly. “Even with your appetite.”

“It’s a date,” Danny says.

* * *

Danny lets conversation wash over him for the next two hours and while the steaks are only about half the size of Steve’s head, they make do when it comes to comforting him. He feels a million times better than he did when they got here, even if the court date is still looming and Steve still has guilty face on.

He waits until Chin heads off for a light afternoon gamble to ask. “Okay, that’s it. What’s with your face? Why aren’t you worried about this hearing? What do you know that I don’t?”

Steve doesn’t even look up. He’s so busy pushing food around his plate that Danny has to wonder when broccoli and salmon got that interesting – and of course he’s taken Steve to a steakhouse and he went all healthy because he gorged his liver on booze last night. “Danny, it’s…”

“It’s what? It’s bad news? It’s good news? It’s typical Steve McGarrett news and that means I’m definitely not going to like it…?”

In lieu of saying anything, Steve reaches into his back pocket and unearths a square pocket of paper, handing it out to Danny. 

“What?”

“Read it.”

“What is this?” he asks, smoothing out the wrinkles from the paper and staring down at the…

“Yup,” is all Steve says when Danny loses the ability to talk or even _think_. “I didn’t think you’d react very well.”

“Steven.”

“Yes, Daniel, I know.”

“Steven, this is a…this is a…”

“Say it, you’ll feel better,” Steve says, wiping stray bits of lunch away with his napkin before he folds it neatly in a square beside his plate.

Danny inhales sharply and prepares for the mother of all rants, but he gets shut down because he’s cut off by the feel of sheer humiliation. He just did the tackiest thing anyone could ever do and there was probably a plastic version of Elvis there and oh god, Danny feels a little sick, he won’t lie, he definitely feels a little sick.

He exhales through the panic. “Steve, I’m holding a marriage license in my hands. This is a marriage license. This is a document of the law that means that I married you and _why are you smiling at me like that?_ ”

He is, too. He’s smiling behind his hand and it makes Danny want to punch him more than he usually does.

“Danny,” he says. “First of all, it was your idea. And second? Danny, you don’t remember last night at all, do you?” Danny’s bewildered expression must be reply enough, because Steve just keeps going. “Look, Danny, I wish I could tell you that I was selfless in this, but I can’t. You kissed me the way that I didn’t think would ever happen and I thought you’d known all along that I’ve been in love with you for … well, a long time, but I think I realized it when I saw you outside the children’s ward and thinking of Stan first even though it must’ve killed you to be doing that.”

“Way to tell a guy, Steve,” Danny says past the lump in his throat and his too-dry lips. “So, we got Vegas-hitched?”

“You thought it would help with the custody hearing.”

“I was drunk.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, his face falling. “I get that, now. Look, we didn’t actually do anything physical last night. We can go and get it annulled and Rachel never has to know, but Danny, I made a few calls this morning and I think if we stay together for a little while, you have a better shot. It provides a stable home for Grace and because you’ve known me as long as you have, we can make a case to fight for more custodial rights.” He reaches across the table, clasping Danny’s hand tightly. “Danny, this could be good. You could get Grace back.”

“I haven’t lost her,” Danny replies defensively, wanting to make that point clear. “Steve, this isn’t just you running with scissors or grenades or whatever weapon you think is going to be effective when it comes to catching the bad guys. This is marriage. This is my second marriage. And, okay, again, you could’ve brought up that you liked me like that, loved me like that,” he corrects himself. “But, Steve…”

“Danno, I want to make you happy. It’s as simple as that,” Steve cuts him off. “Okay? This gives you a shot at Grace and, I’m sorry if you’re not ready to hear this, but I can be a good husband and I want to prove that I can take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” Danny demands, his face scrunched up in disbelief. “What is this, the 1920’s?”

“Danny, I love you. Okay?” Steve says sharply. “And I want to help you keep Grace in Oahu because it keeps you there. So, when you’re ready to talk to me about this like an adult, I’ll be on the casino floor with Chin. Until then…?” He’s wearing a dangerous face, a Steve face that Danny is hesitant to describe because none of it is good. “Until then, you can process this on your own without getting the benefit of insulting me to my face.”

Danny doesn’t manage to retort that it’s not the same when the insults aren’t heard, but Steve’s already out of the restaurant. 

And the bastard didn’t even pick up the check. 

“Damn it,” he mutters, digging out several bills from his wallet. “He’s sleeping on the couch tonight,” he informs Steve’s empty plate sitting opposite him. He leaves an extra balled up five for the waiter who had to put up with his shouting and storms off after Steve; who, using his ninja ways, has managed to disappear in the halls of the casino.

* * *

He’s not overreacting. 

Is he?

He’s not. Danny can’t be. It’s _marriage_ and it’s to Steve and he popped it on him right before a custody hearing that could take his little girl completely away from him and move her to Las Vegas. Jesus, he doesn’t even want to think about the heightened probability that he’s worked out in his head of her growing up and wanting to be a Vegas showgirl in the shadow of the sickeningly neon, glitzy lights.

So, why’s he so angry? Because he is. He’s spitting mad, so mad that he wants to find the nearest slot machine and pitch it through the window. Is that because of Steve? Or is that because he’s in Vegas to fight just to see his little girl after moving across the country for her and doing whatever else Rachel demanded. He ends up at a bar, asking for a beer, and staring at his hand – devoid of a ring. Apparently they had time for the license, but no time for the jewelry.

Mad as hell, but still unsure as to what direction that anger ought to be pointed in, he ends up texting Steve:

_Let’s talk. You’re buying dinner._

* * *

When Steve shows up for dinner, Danny’s already halfway into a bottle of red wine and his white button down has three of its buttons undone, lower than he’d unbutton normally, but this is Las Vegas. This is the den of sin that his delightful ex-wife wants to move his daughter to. He’s tipsy and he’s bitter and he can’t turn off the anger. 

So Steve, asshole that he is, decides to show up in a navy blue shirt that makes his eyes look like the goddamn ocean and a perfectly pressed dark pair of slacks with jacket to match.

“You weren’t supposed to think this was an actual date,” Danny complains, making headway on glass number four of the vino.

Steve takes the opposite seat. “You look pretty dressed up.”

“I always look pretty dressed up. That’s our thing. You underdress, I overdress. You’re bad cop, I’m good cop. You decide to marry me, I…” He trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to head off the tangent. “How long?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking, Danno,” Steve says, folding his napkin in his lap.

“How long have you been formulating secret Steve McGarrett plans to make _this_ ,” he says, gesturing between them, “happen.”

“Marrying you wasn’t really in the cards,” Steve says. “I thought I’d let the insanity of your custody situation die down and then I’d bring a six pack of beers over to your place every night. I’d be your person. I’d be your support.”

“My Matt,” Danny fills in the blanks.

That gets Steve. He makes a face the likes of which is generally reserved for drug dealers and the scum of the earth and it makes Danny _sick_ , actually _sick_ to realize that Matt’s in the same class with the rest of them now. “No, Danno. Me. I was going to be myself and I was going to be there for you. I thought after a few weeks of beer, we’d move on to ordering in pizza. Eventually, it’d be pizza and football, then maybe dinner and a game. Then, I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know, but last night you suggested this and it’s a way to make sure Grace stays on the island. It’s a way for you to stay on the island.”

“You guys would be fine without me,” Danny says when he can’t think of anything better.

“I wouldn’t be,” Steve points out, flagging down the waiter. “We’re going to need another bottle of the wine.”

“Better make it two. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Steve pauses, but orders the bottle. “Are you sure you want to get drunk, Danny? Last night…”

“Please, Steve, by all means tell me about last night,” Danny encourages, his eyes flaring up as that familiar mix of irritation and disbelief floods him. “You had a dozen opportunities to tell me that we got hitched. You could’ve said so when I rolled over and found you on my floor or when we tracked down Kamekona.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. 

Danny’s not even sure what he wants Steve to say, but _something_ would help him get over the disbelief he’s struggling with. “Well?”

“I just want to ask one thing, Danny.”

“What?”

“Do I even have a chance?”

Danny’s confused. “What? A chance with what?”

“You,” Steve replies, shooting him a pained look which has Danny remembering all the times that Steve’s needed someone in his life and had to deal with the absence of their presence. His mother who still remains an unknown question mark in Steve’s life, his father taken from him too soon, his sister still a stranger despite their best efforts to change that – always too far away. Now, he’s got his _ohana_ with Five-0, but Danny didn’t know that they were heading towards this. “Danny, look. I love you,” he states simply, like it’s a fact that needs to be said. “I want to stay married to you. Whether you want it, too, though, is what’s going to decide what happens at tomorrow’s custody hearing.”

“Shit,” Danny murmurs, staring at the two bottles of wine that have arrived with _impeccable_ timing. “Yeah. I guess getting drunk isn’t exactly the best idea, here.” He still pours himself a half a glass because he needs to be reputable in the morning, but he doesn’t need to be a saint. “You love me, huh? On the scale of exploding items, am I more or less than grenade launchers?”

“I didn’t know you were the kind of thing that exploded.”

There’s a dirty comment on the tip of Danny’s tongue that he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to add fuel to the fire, but there’s a part of him that wants to try and stay away from the very real feelings he’s been trying to ignore.

“Honestly, Steve, I didn’t know that you were…”

“Gay? Into Jersey cops?” Steve interrupts. “Stupid enough to fall for you?”

“Ready for marriage,” is Danny’s reply. “Look, Steve…” He hasn’t felt this awkward since high school when he got turned down three times in the same day when it came to asking girls on prom dates. “You do, I mean, have a shot – a chance – with me. I’m bad at this. I know I’m bad at this, but if you were as crap as I am with asking people out with a failed marriage on your back, you would be too. And we don’t all have your effortless good looks and…and…fuck, Steve, I don’t even know what you want me to say.”

“Say it again. Say you’ll give me a chance.”

If that’s all Steve wants, then maybe Danny won’t fuck it up after all. “Every chance, Steve,” he promises, the wine and the dinner forgotten. 

He extends his hand, palm up, and waits expectantly.

“What?” Steve asks.

“You owe me my ring. You do have a ring, don’t you? Please don’t tell me that you didn’t even bother to get me a ring when you decided to get married to me in a shotgun Vegas situation.”

Steve’s pained expression is absolutely and wonderfully _epic_. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not ever,” Danny crows proudly, but his smile softens into something genuine when Steve presses a simple gold band into the waiting palm of his hand and it feels _right_.

* * *

Steve waits outside the courtroom. Even though Danny hasn’t decided to renege on the marriage, he doesn’t think that he’d be very welcome prying into the intensely personal nature of the hearing. The court appointment shouldn’t take longer than two hours, but Steve remains restless during every minute of it. He paces the floor and it takes the combined efforts of Chin and the newly-arrived Kono to keep him from bursting inside the courtroom to offer his own testimony.

Finally, the doors open and the small crowd of people mill out. Steve finds Danny pretty quickly in the midst of them, pushing through people to get to him. “Well?”

Instead of answering him with words, Danny wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hauls him down, pinning a kiss the likes of which Steve’s never imagined before on his lips. The height difference between them forces Steve to stagger downwards a little if he wants to keep this kiss going and there’s no way in hell he intends to stop.

Eventually, someone breaks away. Steve couldn’t tell you did, because he’s too dazed to think or manage actual words until some of the fog of heady desire clears.

“I take it things went well?”

“Rach is pissed,” he says, looking slightly guilty over that. “But the court ruled that given my history with Grace and my ‘newfound stable home situation’,” he says, using quotes, “They don’t have the right to move Grace here to Las Vegas. Full custody was denied. Either they stay in Hawaii or they have to send Grace back one week a month and since that doesn’t exactly work with school…”

“Rachel’s pissed,” Steve sums up, sliding his fingers down Danny’s arm and twining their fingers together. “I realize I’m about to sound like I’m scared of your ex-wife, but Chin and Kono mentioned something about lunch and…”

“And you’re scared of my ex-wife,” Danny says. “Don’t worry. I’m just as terrified.” To Steve’s mild surprise, Danny doesn’t let go of his hand. 

It’s almost like Danny Williams is giving in to sense and logic.

The world must be ending.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you wedding me under the guise of sensibility,” Danny says, pulling him forward when he deems their pace not quick enough to escape the wrath of one’s ex-wife. “And while I’m grateful that you decided to be a gentleman and not take advantage of me; that needs to change. Now that I’m sober and all in, you had better goddamn well believe that you owe me a wedding night, McGarrett.”

“We’re married, Danno. I think we’re on a more intimate basis than last names.”

“You’re right,” Danny says, and gives Steve the second best kiss of the day (and possibly his life). He keeps Steve close, a dazed smile on his face. “You owe me a wedding night, you Navy SEAL asshole.”

“You know what? From you,” Steve says, staring down at the man he’s pledged to spend his life with. “That’s downright romantic.”


End file.
